


Bright Enough To Find Each Other.

by SS98



Series: Burning. [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Dark Harry, Dominant Harry, Flashbacks, It's not gruesome I SWEAR, Kinda? Not at all., M/M, Mention of Home Invasion, Mpreg, Mpreg Louis, Possessive Behaviour, Possessive Harry, Pregnant Louis, Protective Harry, Scary Harry, Self-Indulgent, Submissive Louis, Swearing, Top Harry, Violence, mention of child murder, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 20:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10579221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SS98/pseuds/SS98
Summary: “You must be comfortable in there, little baby.” He said when Bill Denbrough swore for the first time in the Barrens. “Real cosy, I reckon.”Louis had forgotten the film halfway to Stan’s bloody suicide when Harry’s slight murmurs to his tummy became more enthralling. He combed through Harry’s mane of curls and smiled at every word.“Hang in there for a good nine months, darling.” Harry whispered, eyes closed and posture tranquil. “I want to prepare for you to have the best things when you get here. Only the best for my little baby.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I must not write more, she said. I will not commit to this, she said. She sat staring at her Word Document at 02h00 with IT (1990) playing in the background and an unexplained owl hooting outside her window, wondering why she lies to herself.

**Eight Months Ago.**

Saying no to Harry – the act of denying the man anything – is not only abominable but laughable in their eyes now. Louis tried once when the man asked him to attend the garish first day of a carnival because _his boy deserved the novelty enjoyment of a night under the stars_ but after four attempts, he found himself being hauled into the parking lot ten seconds after his final class. Harry did not take no for an answer and with Louis he wasted no time in even allowing the boy an option.

“I know I used to say no to get on your nerves but this time I’m serious, Harry.” Louis pleads futilely, his arm caught in his companion’s grip. Pouring his words out to Harry’s broad shoulders was hardly effective.

Harry was all but dragging him in the direction of his car now that Louis’ school day is over. He had splendid plans for him and his boy on this fine Friday. “What is there to worry about, princess?”

“Crowds? Loud people? People, in general.” Louis had an infinite many other complaints to make but Harry was already holding the door open for him. He stepped back with his hands on his hips. “I don’t want to go to a club.”

“I’d like you to accompany me, princess.” Harry did his painstakingly attractive motion of pinching his bottom lip and smirking through it. “What’s it going to take to get you there?”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Nothing you can afford, Styles.”

Harry’s laughter is as phenomenal as his many less timid quirks, and he makes a grab for Louis that leaves the boy trying not to shriek in his poor escape. Louis’ waist is captured abruptly and harshly from behind, his weight swung off the ground so Harry can redirect him to the car. Fighting is useless and getting Louis nowhere as he squirms against Harry’s hold; it’s been happening much too often.

“You deny me this, princess.” Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck and nuzzles the soft skin so it tickles his victim. “Or you try most ardently, at least. We are going out tonight and I’m going to keep you safe from the nasty _loud people_ if they ever come near you.”

“Don’t make fun of me, Styles. It isn’t classy.” Louis flicks Harry’s ear and gets himself lowered to the ground once more. “I’ll come if you never ask me again.”

“Unlikely, princess. Let’s get moving.”

They drive to Louis’ house first so he can pick a sufficient outfit that Harry approves of from his closet. Instead of the plain white T-shirt, Harry gives him a faded band T-shirt that covers most of him except for the abundance of tears in its fabric. Louis picked at it continuously until Harry pulled a denim jacket on for him and took the boy’s hand, towing him out the door. The door is locked behind them and Louis waits, clutching Harry’s sleeve to get in the back-seat while groups of teenagers happen by them already drunk.

He remained that way, his fingers fisted into the material of Harry’s coat, for the entire night without expecting to. The club is nauseating with its dim lighting and deafening sound system. Louis doesn’t drink anything even when Harry assures him it’s safe; he goes to sit next to the man when a booth opens up but Harry plants him rather on his lap. It would have driven him to shock but Louis has been on his lap than a chair since he met Harry.

The people Harry socialises with are nice enough but none do more than make Louis slightly uncomfortable. He spends most of the night observing them in their natural habitat whilst subtly blocking out the noise with his clammy palms. Harry drinks half his weight in alcohol but nothing about him comes to show him – not a slur in his voice or sway in his step. He balances Louis on his thigh and never gives up the arm wound firmly around the boy’s waist. At odd points in the night he stopped to give Louis his sole focus, stealing kisses when his boy is looking elsewhere or whispering something nonsensical into his ear.

“Is it okay to ask to leave now?” Louis yawns and arches his back in a stretch. He pouts at Harry when the man looks to not be relenting. “Please, Harry? I’m tired.”

“After just three hours, princess?” Harry pulled Louis against him and set his bottle down to cradle his best friend. His mocking does not go unnoticed when Louis twists his nipple through his shirt and wiggles his way free. “Dance with me and we can go home.”

Louis agrees and is taken into a mosh pit of sweat, gyrating bodies and hallucinative minds guiding them. He lets Harry secure him firmly and in the circle of familiar arms. Dancing is no chore, not like it used to be before Harry taught him in the middle of a barren playground with nothing but a dying cellphone to provide music. Louis thought of that now and grinned – it had to be one of his fondest memories – up at the man that is nothing but quizzical.

“Something wonderful happening up here, princess?” Harry spoke into Louis’ ear.

“Just thinking about the time you showed me how to dance.” Louis replies. He turns his face into Harry’s neck and breathes in the lingering aroma of Old Spice and dead coal.

The recollection is enough to cause a chuckle. “You were stubborn then just as you are now.”

“Would you have cared about a boy who fell at your feet like everyone else?”

“Hmm.” Harry pretends to contemplate the question but bursts into laughter when Louis punches his chest in obvious impatience. He recaptures that fist and lays a kiss to every knuckle, not breaking the smouldering eye contact that all but shatters Louis’ restraint. “You’re my special boy, Louis. It was not just your remarkable unwillingness to get on your knees when I so humbly- _ouch, princess_.”

Louis retracted his hand after having pinched Harry’s lovehandles – the feature of his own that the man despised. “I never got on my knees for you and it ain’t going to happen now.”

“Was it an option before then, princess?” Harry draped his arm snugly around Louis’ shoulders in his efforts to block out the rowdy club but keep his words burned into his boy’s skin. The incidental sultry timbre made Louis shudder at the sensation of warm breath grazing his goosebumps. “Could I have once had the privilege of my boy surrendering to me?”

“Does it matter now?” Louis stretched up on his tiptoes to cup both sides of Harry’s face, grinning unabashedly when the latter nips at his nose.

Harry feigns a guttural, pained sound in his throat and connects their lips for one shameless kiss. He doesn’t care for Louis keeping his jaws tight, and lands a terribly loud smack to the boy’s behind so his tongue can slip into Louis’ mouth. Lifting Louis off the ground is simple enough when he’s distracted and Harry delves into the heavenly moan he hears from his boy. This is why he will only ever kiss Louis, because each time was _bloody amazing_ and he doubts any other creature could transfix him so.

“You’re not getting into my pants tonight, Harry.” Louis murmured against Harry’s swollen lips, knowing full well that this taste will only ever be his. He watches Harry obscenely lick his lips and shift his hands to grope his bottom.

“Yeah, baby. I know.” Harry pecked his boy’s lips one more time, a heartbeat before those thin pink cushions parted in an extensive yawn. “Let’s get you home before you fall asleep on me.”

Louis simpered, a resilient complaint, and let Harry take him out of the club. “You decided to carry me.”

“That’s right, princess.” Harry ignored the parting words of his earlier guests and friends, shoving through an innumerable amount of intoxicated people to reach the door. Louis is barely a weight in his arms as he exits and gets to his car. “How’s about ridin’ up front with me?”

“No thanks.” Louis stretched his limbs and manoeuvred his way into the back-seat, smiling innocently as he balled himself up. He squeaks when Harry pinches his derriere and closes the door. “How about you don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you, Styles?”

“ _Doesn’t belong to me?_ ” Harry slams his door shut for emphasis and inhales sharply when Louis’ arms wrap around his shoulders from behind, dipping his head to kiss Louis’ wrists. “Princess, not only does your perfect behind belong to me but everything attached to it and so on, is mine as well.”

Louis leaned forward in his seat and let his fingertips lightly scratch Harry’s scruff. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I’m fine, baby.” Harry was one astonishing human that Louis discovered is immune to the after effects of alcohol. A cop could pull him over and find Harry’s BAC to be through the roof, but the man can still pass a driving test. “Sit tight and let me bring you home.”

“Think you can stay over tonight?” Louis doesn’t bother to buckle up and rolls down his window to prop his arms over the edge, relishing in the breathlessness that followed from Harry’s speed. “It feels like the house is gonna be extra quiet tonight.”

“You willing to offer something up that’ll make it worth my while?”

Louis caught sight of Harry’s reflection in the driver’s side mirror and laughed at the wink he received. “If you don’t take no for an answer then neither do I, Styles.”

Harry responded to the sass with a catcall for his boy. “I hope you never accept no, princess. Any bastard tells you no and you don’t deserve it, I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

“You don’t let me ask anyone except you for anything so I don’t think that’s something to worry about.” Louis answered sweetly. “On the other hand, I hope more and more people begin to deny you.”

“Going to keep me all to yourself, is it?”

“You bet.”

*    *    *    *    *

**Present Day.**

Louis has kept his left hand hidden in the pocket of a stolen hoodie all morning. It was last Friday that Harry and he returned from the only motel than can win a competition for being so dilapidated; also that day happened to be when Harry put a ring on his finger. It’s nothing flashy and hardly exceeded in karat worth but Louis stared at it late at night anyway, fixated by the simplicity of a gesture that is altogether crippling in devotion.

A fight almost brewed when Louis accused Harry of feeling stupidly obligated and refused to marry a man that proposed out of necessity. He was silenced by the date on Harry’s receipt for the jeweller from whom he purchased the humble ring; it was dated six months ago.

They lived together now in Harry’s studio flat further from Louis’ school and sold the boy’s family home. There is no member of the family left to serve as guardian. A day was spent moving all his belongings to Harry’s place and a tiny budget was busted buying the boy’s favourite treats to stock their cabinets. Harry was theatrical about ripping the shower curtain off while Louis stared dumbly, failing to fathom the motivation behind such a wasteful act.

Harry never brought anyone to his home so other than stripping the sheets for a wash, there was nothing more thorough required. Louis convinced him to buy a cheap dresser that needed assembling and all he got to do was watch while Harry drove nails into a three-drawer chipboard structure. They ate Poptarts and drank soda for their first night together in a shared home.

On Sunday Louis painted the dresser bright pink to annoy Harry and situated alongside the door to their shoebox closet. Nothing could have been less extravagant and still hold all of Louis’ fondness.

Being the end of the school year meant that there was nothing stressful to mind. Louis spent most of his time in the school art classes even if he was no longer enrolled or went to garage sales where he scored a functional Polaroid camera and sketching pencils for under eight bucks. People noticed his ring after a day or two when familiar faces morphed into something of piqued interest. He never indulged them because these strangers were hungry for gossip to fill their pointless hours.

A letter from the only college in town – prestigious nonetheless – reached him the same day that it fell on the doorsteps of hundreds more. He was so thrilled to see the university stamp that he could not wait for Harry to fetch him so they could share the news. Being able to stay in this town meant less expenses and a scholarship would remove a student’s most painful burden.

Harry welcomed the all-encompassing hug he received after making it up the stairs to Louis’ school entrance, laughing gruffly into the boy’s ear when he pointlessly spins him around once. He listens to Louis’ jubilance before watching the seal break on the envelope and congratulating Louis on his acceptance. He’s proud of his boy and that’s never going to change.

Louis hooked his thighs over Harry’s hips and fisted the gym sweater Harry always wore to work – one of four in exactly the same dull grey shade. He was on top of the world and it had nothing to do with fortune.

Harry squeezed Louis’ thighs for his attention. “If last night’s stir fry and our last can of soda pop count as a celebratory dinner then, baby, let’s feast.”

As promised their dinner consisted of cold leftovers – a choice rather than obligation – and awful soda that tasted more like battery acid if Harry’s scrunched expressions were any indication. Louis was in the mood for a movie but after blowing most of their money on groceries last weekend they had to settle for old DVD’s that Harry kept lying around as pathetic coasters. Only one was salvageable – _Stephen King’s IT (1990) –_ and they settled down on their fallen mattress while it overcame the scratches to play. Harry was not the most discreet in finding his spot where Louis’ bare belly might be against his cheek and all through the movie; Harry frequented Pennywise’s dialogue with his own words to their unborn child.

“You must be comfortable in there, little baby.” He said when Bill Denbrough swore for the first time in the Barrens. “Real cosy, I reckon.”

Louis had forgotten the film halfway to Stan’s bloody suicide when Harry’s slight murmurs to his tummy became more enthralling. He combed through Harry’s mane of curls and smiled at every word.

“Hang in there for a good nine months, darling.” Harry whispered, eyes closed and posture tranquil. “I want to prepare for you to have the best things when you get here. Only the best for my little baby.”

In the coming days it was determined that the food they ate would not be healthy for Louis or the child he carried. Harry got a nutritionist at the gym where he worked to draw up a reliable diet plan even if the requirements were already costly. He used half of his paycheck to fill their kitchen with better choices in meals, from vegetables to yogurt and everything in between. Louis kissed goodbye to his poor teenage diet and paid strict attention to the printed outlines stuck to their fridge with a superhero magnet.

Midway through October Louis had to be interviewed for his college admission, then study for an admissions test that would solidify his way into a better future. He had his scholarship that would handle all university-related expenses so long as he remained in the higher percentile which Louis had no doubt he would. It’s not just his life or Harry’s anymore.

He hit the three month mark in his pregnancy and the morning sickness faded with painful ease. Harry fell asleep with him against the tub’s edge, holding Louis on his lap so at least his boy would be comfortable. Louis drank two bottles of water when he awoke and ate the tasteless chicken salad Harry left for him before he left for the test. Somehow, with the incessant need to use the loo, Louis did his best for the written exam and charmed the admissions committee. His choice of correspondence over attending campus was mainly in benefit for his condition, and they assured him it would make no difference to the work sent for him.

“Hear that?” Louis stopped eating that night when the sound of something unpleasant and unavoidable came through the wall connecting them to their neighbour.

Harry paused his chewing and looked to the origin of the sound. He didn’t flinch the way Louis did at the echo of heavy possessions crashing to the ground, but he turned stiff at the desperate shouts that followed.

“Harry, no.” Louis grabbed the man’s arm when he tried standing. He was not settled by Harry bending to kiss his forehead and made a plea with his eyes that went ignored.

Something about Harry is insane enough to feel no fear and Louis watched in horror now as the man stepped past their front door. His stomach twisted, appetite deceased now, and scrambled onto his knees to listen for any sign of further struggle. Nothing happened for several minutes until Louis was startled by the door swinging back loudly, slamming into the wall behind it.

Harry wore no shirt when he left and now his skin was streaked with crimson, his hair pushed out of his blackened eyes and his body vibrating with the type of rage that complemented his bruised knuckles. “Call the police.”

Louis didn’t need to be told twice and he hurriedly told the operator their address before hanging up. He was slow in getting to his feet and approaching Harry where the latter sat slumped against the door, looking defeated as his skin dripped blood that did not belong to him. Louis’ socks appeared in his vision and Harry grabbed onto his boy, dragging ugly red marks on Louis’ clothes as he breathed shakily.

“What happened?” Louis was afraid to ask. He twisted his fingers into Harry’s curls and held him close, listening to his own heartbeat.

Harry swore under his breath then again in a deafening volume that Louis learned to take in his stride. He clutched Louis’ hips with his bloody palms and pressed his face into the boy’s front. “I need to get both my babies out of here. I won’t let you or my child call this _fuckin’ dump_ home.”

“Woah, Harry. What did you see over there?” Louis tugs on the locks in his grasp to bring Harry’s stained visage into view, searching those bold green orbs for signs of sanity. “You’re my _spouse_ now, Styles. Neither of us gets to keep things bottled up anymore.”

When Harry registered the confession and the wry twitch of his lips dies, he displays an astounding hint of humanity. His emotions are raw in the bloodshot appearance of his eyes and the relentless tremble in his muscles. He parts his lips to speak and they shiver along with the rest of him, striking bewilderment and worry deep in Louis’ core.

“Did you know a single mother lived next to us, princess?” Harry’s words are muffled by his hidden face burrowing into Louis’ tummy. He could not face his boy and relate this horror simultaneously nor did could he wait for Louis’ response before continuing. “Well, she did. No more than five years older than you, the age of her son. It had to be if his _bloody bludgeoned corpse_ is anything to go by. Motherfuckers broke into their home to steal the stereo, the TV. Instead they killed a boy who was eating his macaroni dinner and his mother while she was pulling off her shoes.”

Louis didn’t know what he could possibly say to Harry that might stand a chance at making either of them feel less rattled. His abdomen twisted and knotted deep down, stirring up a sickening dizziness as he fought the fear that threatened to resurface. Nobody comes back fully recuperated immediately after witnessing something so gruesome and Harry is evidently no exception. Harry is going to be a father and this experience sparked true fear in a man that otherwise embodied it.

“It’ll be okay.” Louis cradled the back of Harry’s head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to whimper like he wanted to. A five year-old boy never had the chance to see or expect anything from this world yet. “We’re going to keep our little angel safe, Harry. Far away from all this….this horror where they don’t belong.”

“I swear it, princess.” Harry gritted. “Nothing is ever going to touch you or this baby. Whatever it fucking takes, I’m going to keep you safe.”

**Author's Note:**

> Halfway through this chapter I realised what drew me to these characters and smiled in a way that I could never replicate if paid to do so. I won't share it with you guys but if this world appeals to you as well, please do let me know it's appreciated down in the comments. If that sounds too lame then come say hello on my Instagram, @sumans98


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